On the 22nd of September Kemble came forward and said, inter alia, that the proprietors, anxious that their conduct should be fully looked into, were desirous of submitting their books, and their accounts, to a committee of gentlemen of unimpeachable integrity and honour, by whose decision they would abide. Meanwhile the theatre would be closed, and Madame Catalani, cancelling her engagement, went to Ireland.
“THE DEPARTURE FOR IRELAND.
“When Grimalkin[61] the Spy, took a peep at the house,
And saw such confusion and strife,
He stole to the Green-room as soft as a Mouse,
And thus he address’d his dear wife:
‘Mon Dieu! don’t sit purring, as if all was right,
Our measure of meanness is full,
We cannot stay here to be bark’d at all night,
I’d rather be toss’d by a Bull.’”
The committee of gentlemen (of whom the well-known John Julius Angerstein was one), published their report, and balance sheet, which was publicly advertised on the 4th of October, and they agreed that the profit to the shareholders on the capital, employed during the six years, was 6⅜ per cent. per annum, and that during that time they had paid £307,912. This, of course, would not satisfy the mob, and on the re-opening of the theatre on the 4th of October there was the same riot with its concomitant din of cat calls, rattles, horns, trumpets, bells, &c. For a few days the riot was not so bad, although it still continued; but, on the 9th of October, it broke out again, and the proprietors were compelled to take proceedings at Bow Street against some of the worst offenders. This had the effect, for a time, of stopping the horns, rattles, bells, bugles, &c., but the rioters only exchanged one noise for another, for now they imitated all the savage howlings of wild beasts, and it seemed as if Pidcock’s Menagerie had been turned into the theatre.
This soon got too tame, and on the 20th of October they began fighting among themselves, and stripping the baize off the seats. On the 24th, the proprietors issued a very proper address to the people, showing that they were not getting exorbitant profits, and, consequently, the prices were not too high; but it had no effect until the Grand Jury found true bills against some of the rioters, when there was a lull for a time, which might have been permanent, had not Brandon, the boxkeeper, charged a Mr. Clifford with having created a commotion in the pit. After examination, however, at Bow Street, he was released—and then the mob had another grievance. Brandon must be dismissed; nor only so—on the 5th of November a mob went to Bloomsbury Square, and broke the windows in Kemble’s house, after which, there was another lull; then on the 25th the turbulent spirits broke out again, because it was the fiftieth night, or jubilee, of the riots. A few of them were charged at Bow Street, but that did not stop the riot till nearly the middle of December, when there was another lull in the storm.
Both sides were getting weary of the strife; and, on the 14th of December, a dinner was held at the Crown and Anchor Tavern, Covent Garden, at which Kemble met the Opposition, and a compromise was entered into, and agreed upon, that the boxes were to remain the same price—7s.—the pit was to revert to the old price of 3s. 6d.; and the galleries to remain as they were; the private boxes, at the end of the season, were to be again restored, and appropriated to the accommodation of the public. The rioters wanted Brandon to be discharged, and at night, when he had to appear before his sweet masters, they saluted him with volleys of oranges, and walking-sticks; and, the next night, it was announced that Brandon had been sacrificed to public opinion, and had been dismissed.[62] One or two more apologies for small lâches, and King Mob produced a placard, “WE ARE SATISFIED.”